


Ducky

by queenitsy



Category: High School Musical
Genre: Fluff, M/M, No Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-09-30
Updated: 2007-09-30
Packaged: 2017-10-07 07:10:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/62685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queenitsy/pseuds/queenitsy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chad always suspected that Ryan had a deep, dark secret, but he had no idea it would turn out to be so adorably weird.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ducky

Chad always suspected that Ryan had a deep, dark secret, but he had no idea it would turn out to be so adorably weird.

    The scene was set the first time Chad was invited to spend the night at Ryan’s house. It was kind of a big deal—he slept over at Troy’s all the time, just guys hanging out, but Ryan was his _boyfriend_ and that made it very different. His parents had agreed to allow it, but only after they’d talked to Mrs. Evans and she’d sworn up and down she’d make sure everything stayed appropriate. Which meant there was no way Chad would be spending the night sleeping in Ryan’s bed. They were hesitant to even let him stay in Ryan’s bedroom, but when Ryan had pouted and reminded his parents that he did keep a futon mattress rolled up in his closet, and Chad could sleep on _that_, and were they _trying_ to ruin his night?, and didn’t they trust him?, they’d given in.

    Of course, most of the night was devoted to watching movies (“I said I’d watch a musical, but you didn’t say _anything_ about Barbara Streisand.”), and making out, and playing video games (“Wow, you own three different consoles and you suck on all of them!”), and making out, and arguing about baseball (“I don’t care how much you love the D-backs, Ry, if you root against the Cubbies, you have _no soul_.”), and making out. It wasn’t until well after 1:30 in the morning that they finally made their way towards the bedroom.

    One of Ryan’s parents had helpfully gotten out an extra set of sheets and pillows, which were sitting on Ryan’s bed, folded and waiting for use. “A friendly reminder?” Chad asked, amused.

    “They said they’d check on us after we fell asleep to make sure,” Ryan sighed. “Honestly, you’d think you were my first boyfriend or something.” He smirked at Chad as he said it, and Chad scowled.

    “Well, you _are_ my first boyfriend, and also, shut up,” Chad answered, and threw a pillow at him.

    Ryan laughed and tossed it back on to the bed, then began rummaging around in his dresser for something to sleep in, as another agreement struck between his and Chad’s parents had involved the presence of clothing—more than just a pair of boxers, which was what both boys preferred to sleep in on their own—overnight.

    “The futon’s in the back of the closet,” Ryan added, gesturing vaguely over his shoulder.

    There were two closets in Ryan’s room, Chad realized, glancing at the two doors he was facing. Which wasn’t a huge shock. For one thing, he realized Ryan owned more clothes than anyone else he’d ever met (with the exception of Ryan’s twin) and probably needed a lot of space to store it. And the Evans’ house was huge—a mansion, really—so the abundance of closet space was hardly a surprise.

    Ryan was evidently too absorbed in picking out a set of pajama pants to pay much attention, so Chad opened the nearer of the two doors. Though as he did so, Ryan yelped, “Not _that_…Oh, man.”

    Chad gaped.

    The closet didn’t hold clothes. What it held was ducks.

    Not real ducks, of course. It held stuffed animals, pictures, books, figurines, hats, keychains, books, and collectables, all shaped like or featuring ducks. Ducks of every color and size: realistic ducks and cartooned ducks; rubber ducks and plush ducks; Daffy Duck, Donald and Daisy Duck, Huey, Dewy, and Louie; even posters of the Mighty Ducks; a small bookshelf held all kinds of duck books, obviously representing fiction and non-fiction.

    “Whoa,” Chad said.

    He didn’t look away, as he felt Ryan step up behind him and glance over his shoulder. “I like ducks,” Ryan said defensively, quietly, almost in his ear.

    “No kidding.”

    Ryan reached past him and into the closet, to flip on a light switch. Chad was not surprised to see that the lampshade had ducks painted on it.

    “I’ve been collecting them for a very long time,” Ryan added. “I mean, this is barely any of it. The rest is all up in the attic.”

    “There’s _more_?” Chad asked, gaping.

    “Well, yeah.” Ryan shrugged. “It may be the largest duck collection in the state. Or the country. I’m not sure anymore.”

    “But…but…” Chad looked back at his boyfriend, then glanced around the rest of the room. “Everywhere else around here looks perfectly normal and not… Not obsessed with ducks!”

    “I am _not_ obsessed.” Then Ryan coughed, though it sounded a little like the word, “Anymore.”

    “Okay, well, that,” Chad gestured at the duck-closet, “looks a little obsessive.”

    “Mostly they were presents,” Ryan said. “I mean, I started collecting them when I was a toddler. And then my family kept giving me more and more, and then…” He shrugged.

    “So this is why your mom calls you Ducky?”

    “Oh…you noticed that?”

    Chad glanced at Ryan. He was blushing bright pink.

    “So how did this get started?” he asked, walking over to sit on the bed. Ryan joined him, after shutting off the closet’s light, though he left the closet door open.

    “With _Rubber Ducky_. It was all Ernie’s fault, really.”

    “Ernie?”

    “You know, as in Bert and…?” Ryan laughed.

    “What?” Chad asked blankly.

    Rather than answer, Ryan began to sing. His voice was pure and strong, he hit every note clearly, and he was downright mesmerizing. It would have been a lot less absurd if he hadn’t been singing _Rubber Ducky_.

    Chad applauded when he finished, then cracked up. Ryan shot him a grin.

    “Shar and I weren’t allowed to watch a lot of TV as kids,” he explained. “Mom and Dad thought it would rot our brains. But they _did_ let us watch _Sesame Street_. And we _loved Sesame Street_.”

    “And I supposed Bert and Ernie’s unspoken true love was what turned you gay?” Chad suggested, smirking.

    Ryan walloped him in the arm playfully. _“Anyway_,” he snapped, “we taped episodes. One of them featured _Rubber Ducky_. And I went a little crazy. I watched that tape over and over and over. I learned all the words and sang it constantly.”

    “I’m sure your parents must have loved that.”

    “I actually choreographed my very first dance ever to Rubber Ducky.”

    “Yeah?”

    “Oh yeah. Of course, I was three years old. It mostly involved spinning around until I fell over.”

    Chad laughed. That was a mental image too cute to even contemplate.

    “And obviously,” Ryan continued, “I wanted my own rubber ducky to take into the bath. And then wouldn’t take a bath without it.”

    “Naturally. Just like Ernie.”

    “Right. I also wanted to sleep with it at night, but Mom thought that might be a little weird—she chalked the rest of it up to my toddler…toddlerness, I guess—so she got me a plush ducky to sleep with instead. And from there…Well…”

    “You like ducks,” Chad finished for him.

    “I do.”

    Chad chuckled. “I’m surprised you don’t have, like, duck sheets and pillowcases and curtains and stuff.”

    “I do,” Ryan said. “I just don’t really use them anymore. Everything in here—_everything_—used to have ducks on it. I had duck wallpaper. And duck tiles on the floor. Ducks on my bookshelf full of duck books, with duck bookends. And, like you said, duck sheets and blankets and pillowcases, and just about everything else.”

    “Whoa.” Chad glanced around. “So where did that stuff go? Attic?”

    “Yep.” He sighed. “I packed it all away right before seventh grade.”

    “Yeah? What brought that on?”

    “I’d developed other interests,” Ryan said, almost defensively. “I don’t _only_ love ducks. But also, you know…Sharpay talked me into it. She pointed out we were going into junior high, and we wanted to be cool. Not mildly crazy and obsessed with waterfowl.”

    “And how’d that work out for you?” Chad asked, smirking. He really did adore his boyfriend, but what was endearing about Ryan was the intense way he loved things, from baseball to theater. And intense love like that…well, it tended more towards nerdy than cool.

    “Well, I _am_ dating a basketball star,” Ryan pointed out. “Which puts me at least on the same level of cool as the cheerleaders.”

    “Right. And I totally never would have liked you if I’d known you’d loved something lame like ducks.”

    It was obvious Chad was joking, but Ryan still smacked his arm again.

    There was a knock on the door and Mr. Evans poked his head in a moment later. “Still up, boys?”

    “Just getting ready for bed, Daddy.”  Ryan hopped off the bed. “And introducing Chad to the ducks.”

    “I didn’t realize you two were so serious.” Mr. Evans laughed. “So where’s that futon?”

    “We were just getting that out,” Chad said quickly, jumping up to do so.

    “Uh huh.” He sounded amused, but skeptical. “Well, I’ll come back in a few to say goodnight, then.”

    “Good_bye_, Dad,” Ryan said, sounding remarkably like a normal guy. Chad smirked to himself as he opened the closet and dug out the futon, while Ryan shoved his dad out of his room and shut the door.

    “Does he always tuck you in at night?” Chad asked.

    “Oh, shut up.” Ryan laughed a little as they unrolled the futon and clumsily made it up—Chad rarely made his bed, despite the number of times his mother implored him to, and Ryan never made his, as they had a housekeeper who did it for him. But they muddled through and Ryan walked to the bathroom to brush his teeth while Chad changed.

    Ryan had changed in the bathroom, apparently. Because when he got back, he was wearing a thin white undershirt and a pair of pale blue pajama pants. With multicolored duck faces on them.

    “Cute,” Chad said.

    “The pajamas?”

    “Sure. Also you.”

    “Really?” Ryan’s eyebrow quirked up. He stepped forward and flopped down on to his bed, grabbing Chad by the arm and pulling him down with him. “Oh, clumsy me,” he added.

    “Minty fresh breath,” Chad noted.

    “Yeah, it’s—” was as far as Ryan got, because Chad hooked an arm around him and pulled him closer to kiss him. Ryan shifted a little so that his weight wasn’t resting on Chad’s arm, rolling them both over on to their sides a little, which made making out much easier.

    Which was what they were doing when the door opened again. _“Ahem_,” Mr. Evans said loudly.

    Ryan rolled away from Chad and propped himself up on an elbow. “Hi, Dad.”

    His father raised an eyebrow. “This is a lot _like_ separate beds,” he said.

    “We weren’t tired yet,” Ryan said. “We were trying to wear ourselves out.”

    “Why don’t you try turning out the lights and lying still?”

    Ryan sighed. “I like my way better.”

    Chad, embarrassed, rolled off the bed and sat on the futon. Mr. Evans waited while they both lay down and pulled up the sheets and blankets over themselves.

    “All right, then. Goodnight, boys. Sleep tight. I’ll check on you in awhile…to make sure you don’t need anything, of course.”

    “Of course,” Ryan said, and Chad could actually _hear_ him rolling his eyes. “Good_night_, Dad.”

    Mr. Evans flicked off the lightswitch and shut the door behind him.

    “Sorry,” Ryan said. “My parents are mildly crazy. But we probably should get some sleep, they want to take us to brunch in the morning.”

    Chad took a deep breath. He’d rather resume making out, but Ryan had a decent point. “Fine,” he grumbled.

    “’Night, Chad,” Ryan said.

    “Goodnight…Ducky.”

    Ryan threw a pillow at him. Chad grinned into the dark.


End file.
